Moths
by Megazord Master
Summary: Beneath the city, something dark is awakening. Something the Rangers could never hope to understand. Something with dire consequences for the world...
1. Prologue

AN: Now it's on my account, I can have a bit more free reign with it. Of course, something set in my PR universe was never going to be 'original fiction' anyway...

Moths

By Weihan Liang

Prologue

The road behind his house was cold and dark, with light rain falling from the sky above. Shivering lightly, Murphy pulled his jacket tighter around his body, cursing at the weather. At thirty eight, Paul Murphy was already the most famous author in Sydney, if not the world. His debut novel, written in response to the strange events happening over the seas three years ago, shot straight to the top of the chart in its first few days alone. He had been the talk of the town, even after the strange Ultra Rangers had begun to pop up. With each successful novel came praise from the critics marvelling at his technique of gripping suspense. He had married young and had moved into a purpose-built house in the quiet suburb of Castlecrag just after the release of the book. So far, nothing too out of the ordinary had happened…with the exception of the strange spontaneous tree burning a few years ago. He was at the top, loving it and pouring a full forty-five hour week in just three days.

But then the problems started piling up.

So engrossed in his work that he was, he had not realised that his wife had been seeing another man behind his back. What made it all the more worse is that he had not found out about it until the day he had literally walked in on her and her lover – his brother. After the long and trying divorce was finally over, he thought the worst of the problems were over. In truth, they were just beginning. With the sudden betrayal of his own flesh and blood, he began to slip in his work. Deadlines were missed, public appearances cancelled and books stopped being published. Finally, his publisher had issued him an ultimatum.

Get his act together or get out.

Murphy had taken a long vacation in New Zealand to try to get his head together after his decision. Well, that and to get away from the strange monsters that were beginning to pop out of the woodwork. He finally decided that there was nothing that he could have done to stop his wife leaving him. He smiled as he recalled that moment, where a literal weight had lifted off his shoulders. When he came home, his friends, colleagues and family noticed a very different, but welcome, change in his demeanour. He spent less time in his work and more time with his family. He forgave his ex-wife and brother and even encouraged them to get married. That was a move that surprised everyone, even him. He slowly shook his head, evoking the image of his brothers shocked face as he encouraged them. He hummed to himself, feeling the metallic smoothness of his "lucky charm". He had bought it in one of the obscure craft stalls in Auckland on his last day. Oh, and what happened on that last day made him finally leave the ghosts of his past behind…

A strange sound brought him out of his reminiscing. It sounded strange, like a million tiny insects vying for someone's attention. Opening the back door of his house, he scurried inside and pulled the wooden door closed behind him. He smirked at his imagination, and then tucked that last line away, hoping that he could use it in his next book. Sales had started to pick up again, with the news of his return from vacation, and were off to a very promising start. Even as he had hurried home, he had thought about his last meeting with his publisher, and the talk about turning not one, but TWO of his novels into movies. To reach the same level of fame and success as the Ultra Rangers was absolutely mind-blowing.

The sound intruded into his range of hearing again, snapping off his thoughts like a freight train. It seemed different somehow…closer even. Murphy mentally shrugged and walked down the hall to his living room. The wind howled relentlessly outside and flowed through the open windows, bringing icy winds extremely close to his skin, despite the thick clothes he had on. He chuckled to himself at his attempt at bringing 'fresh air' into the house and closed all – save for the one that had been broken by the kids up the road. Now, though, on the coldest night in thirty years, there was no one outside, save for that strange Asian kid across the road and himself in his home. He never really knew what that kid was up to as he had seen some strange things over the years. Whatever it was, it was probably nothing to do with him. As the wind died down, he saw a sight that was so bizarre and out of place, it seemed almost comical.

It was a moth.

In all of his years of study at school and university, Murphy had never seen or encountered one like the one in front of him. What struck him odd was that it was hovering in front of him, not at all bothered by the icy breeze or the sub-zero temperatures. It also seemed to be inside, possibly having come through the broken window. Frowning, he looked at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Finally coming to an abrupt decision, he stepped towards it, as if trying to force it away from him.

It didn't move.

Murphy paused, cocking his head to the side, thoroughly puzzled. Squinting against the light coming from the streetlamps outside, he saw another moth join the first. Now, he felt a feeling slowly creeping into his veins, taking him a second to realize that it was fear. He brushed off the fear with a chuckle. Why would two moths that were apparently immune to the cold and wind scare him? Turning away from the odd sight, he took a step towards the kitchen but froze in his tracks.

Another moth was hovering in front of him. Another flutter later and it was joined by another that had flown out from under the fridge. Then another. And another. Still more of the flying insects joined the first until he was surrounded by a veritable cocoon of the flying insects. He wasn't happy with their intrusion and he squared his shoulders, intent on walking straight through them. Suddenly, the cloud of moths disbursed, as if they had been frightened by an outside source. Murphy watched them fly off, puzzled. He laughed to himself and started towards the kitchen once more, thinking that he would have to tell his publisher what had happened. Why, it might even be the start of a new book…

He had barely taken more than two steps before they descended on him.

The same fluttering sound was all the warning he had before they swooped on him like a flock of vultures. He whirled in the cloud of moths as they meticulously stripped off each layer of clothing, finally leaving him naked. As he fell on to the cold wooden floor, the swarm vanished once more. Murphy picked himself up off the ground, violently shivering as another blast of wind barrelled from the window. He grimaced as he thought of the chewing out he would receive from his publisher, accountant and mother at getting an expensive suit eaten by moths that never seemed to be affected by temperatures colder than the coldest night in the North Pole…

Before he could blink or even think, the cloud engulfed him again. Murphy stared at the insects as they buzzed around him, feeling the feathery beat of their wings against his naked body. The feeling was akin to a lengthened orgasm, and it set Murphy's nerves on fire. Immersed in this feeling, he almost didn't register the first spark of pain on his leg. A second, more intense, one caused him to look down at his legs. A multitude of moths had latched onto his legs and were biting through his skin. Murphy would have laughed at this thought, if it wasn't for the terrible pain that was lancing up his legs. With a terrified groan, he crumpled to the floor, feeling the moths on his leg boring deeper and deeper until they had stripped away his legs to the bone. As he felt himself slipping away, his last thought was of his ex-wife.

As the moths finished feeding, they flew off through the window, one by one, until there was nothing in the dark room but the ravaged remains of a once successful writer.

It had begun

TBC…


	2. Chapter 1: Discovery

Chapter 1: Discovery

He didn't have time for this shit.

Sliding himself out of the black van loaned to him, Detective Ben Kings looked around him at the relative peace and quiet of the suburb. Kicking a loose stone at his feet, he looked up at the house of Paul Murphy and sighed. He had been called there by Murphy's editor after the author had missed a key meeting the day before and had never missed meetings without a good excuse. At twenty nine, he was the newest and youngest detective around and, as it always seemed to be, he always got chosen for the 'bum' cases. Consoling victims of monster attacks lost whatever little coolness it had within the first five minutes so being asked to work a missing persons case was something slightly more interesting. What made it 'worse' was the partner he had been assigned. At thirty, Jessica Vojnovic was making a name for herself as 'one ball-busting bitch' but he had to admire her no-nonsense attitude.

"What do you make of all this?"

She looked at him and shrugged. Running a hand through her light brown hair, she chewed on her lower lip and performed her mental checklists. The guy was a well-known author and any enemies he would have had…well, she had turned up nothing in her searches and background checks. The only people that may have held some form of a grudge or ill will were his ex-wife and his brother. Of course, that option had been shot down as they had stated that Murphy had encouraged them to get married.

"Guy's probably passed out or something. Maybe he was drinking the night before and slept in. Too embarrassing to say he overslept and is lying low. What's the deal with this neighbourhood though? Any juicy secrets?"

Ben shook his head and wondered why he had been partnered with the young Italian woman. It was common knowledge that she was a man-eater that seemed to go though boyfriends like he went through socks, which was an extreme contrast to her seriousness on the job. Castlecrag was a non-descript suburb and could have been anywhere else in Sydney. Several bushfires had run through the area a few years ago and there had been sightings of a strange boy who, according to the local drunk, could shoot fire out of his hands. That sort of stuff was to be laughed off, but he had a strange feeling he would be door-knocking the houses to find out if there were any grains of truth there. Relaying that information to Jessica, he watched her shoulders slump almost imperceptibly in what could be seen as disappointment.

"Come on. Let's go shake up a drunk."

Walking to the front door, Ben could see there were no lights on inside. As he strained his ears, blocking out all sounds of the bush and the almost-comical groan coming from the house across the street, his hackles rose as he realised there was no sound at all coming from inside. No sounds of a TV, no radio…not even the semi-expected sounds of sex or other activities. Raising his right hand, he knocked on the door a few times and spoke in a loud voice.

"Mr Murphy, can you please come out? Paul Murphy, it's the police. We're just checking up on you."

No response.

Feeling his training kick in, Ben looked around for another entry point. Something small and furry flashed past his face and he stifled a yelp. Crushing it in one hand, he could see that it was a moth and he wiped the body on his pants with a disgusted look on his face. He hated bugs, but wondered what a moth was doing awake at this hour. Shaking his head, he motioned for Jessica to join him. She raised an eyebrow at the dead insect on his pants and he rolled his eyes.

"Back door?"

He opened his mouth in response, when the wind changed direction. A strange smell hit his nose and he instinctively recoiled in disgust. It smelled almost like that steak he had accidentally left out in the open for three days when he was covering the aftermath from the massive attack in the Botanical Gardens, sweet and sticky with a hint of iron or copper. Running to the laneway behind the house, he spied the back door. He tested it once before raising his voice once more.

"Mr Murphy, if you do not respond, we will have to use force to enter."

Jessica shivered slightly. Something about this routine check-up was rubbing her the wrong way. It was akin to the feeling she had when she had seen her sister Olivia's new boyfriend. The two of them seemed to be a happy couple but she could see there were some cracks beginning to form in the relationship. Perhaps the New Year would bring about the stability she hoped her sister would have in a male companion. Looking behind them, she saw that there were no people looking into the laneway, just a strange Asian kid that was wearing the uniform of William Blue Hotel School. As he didn't seem to be looking their way, she nodded once as the morning bus roared past.

Ben raised his left leg and, recalling his training, kicked the door square on the lock. There was a sound of splintering wood, but the door held firm. Trying once more, he managed to get the door slightly more open but it was still shut tight. Swearing under his breath, he raked a hand through his unkempt brown hair and centred himself. Stifling a yell, he swung his legs up in a roundhouse kick that literally tore the door from its hinges. The now free door smashed into the wall on the other side and Jessica whistled low at the impressive display of strength she had witnessed, before choking back gags as the smell hit her full in the face.

The two detectives walked through the empty halls, calling out Murphy's name; there was no response, save for a strange low buzzing none of them could identify. As they neared the living room, the smell became stronger and seemed to thicken the air. Ben was halfway into the living room when he saw it.

The body was lying down with an arm outstretched, seeming to be reaching for a small lighter engraved with a strange design. The flesh of the legs looked to be completely stripped bare, along with the torso, upper arms and the bottom of the head. The lower jaw yawned wide to reveal a swollen tongue that was crawling with maggots. Forcing himself to take a closer look, he could see that most of the internal organs looked like they had been removed and what little remained seemed to have been gnawed on. Coughing violently as the nausea reached his mind, the sound sent up a thick cloud of flies that had been inside the body cavity. Turning away from the sight, he held up his hand to stop Jessica from entering, but it was too late. He closed his eyes as he heard her shocked gasp followed by retreating footsteps to the laundry at the back. He unclipped the walkie-talkie hanging on his belt and swallowed hard.

"We've got a body at Murphy's place. Call the coroner and get a scene set up."

Not bothering to hear the reply on the other end, he walked around the body and noticed there were no signs of a struggle. No, it only looked like he had fallen down and…been eaten or something. Maybe it was a monster attack…but what monster would kill someone and eat them in the supposed safety of their home? A message to the Rangers maybe, but they hadn't been seen in public for years and had even ignored the tragedy in New York. He hoped his boss would give him some slack on finding the body, but the mind of Hiroto Nowa wasn't something he was privy to. He wondered what his old friend would make of this before shaking his head, allowing one final thought to pass through his mind.

What the fuck could have killed the guy?

TBC…


End file.
